22. Leah
Leah
You either bring yourself home or you don’t come home at all.
Hasteed’s words ring in my ears as I dive toward Filippa.
Her head is tilted back, her eyes closed.
Her bronze helmet is half twisted off, leaving her chin and throat exposed.
I land gracelessly, dirt flying up around me as I fall to my knees beside her, my fingers searching for the flutter of a pulse in her neck.
Please don’t be dead, please.
I may not have known Filippa as long as I have Evie, but there’s something about my instinctual affection for them both that feels similar.
I feel the same flare of sisterly protectiveness when I look at her.
And it makes me shaky with relief as I stare at the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She’s breathing, thank the ancestors.
I study the rest of her. The blood is coming from somewhere below her belly button, and I push her breastplate up to see the wound. It’s lower than I expect—which explains how the weapon got under her armor—a puncture made by a blade with jagged edges.
I stare over at the rift back to Aradis in the distance. It’s still open, but not for long. The last of the fledglings are nearly through.
Even if I got us over there in time, would they let me carry her through? They’re not supposed to allow anyone who isn’t strong enough to go back themselves. Would they even treat Filippa on the other side? Or let her bleed out, because a good fledgling should be able to survive this on their own?
I’m not risking Filippa’s life on the petty rules of insane people. If Aradis won’t take care of her, I’ll fucking find someone in Strata who will.
“Hold on, Filippa,” I say, pulling off her helmet and running a hand over her forehead before I rise to my feet. “If you die now, you’ll never get another chance to tell me how difficult I make your life.”
With the battle done, I’m back on the plains as I know them best—in the smoking aftermath of a battle, full of spoils ready to be scavenged.
Already, I can see figures descending the city walls and spreading out across the plains like…
well, like rats picking over a corpse. I see it now, the awful utilitarianism of it, and when I look down at Filippa, it’s as if my mind splits in two.
I see both the dying young woman who should’ve never been sent to war and the collection of valuable winger objects that would feed a family for months.
But I don’t have time to have a crisis about that when I’m already in the middle of an emergency.
“Stay put; I’ll be right back,” I tell Filippa, as if she can hear me. Then I take wing over the plains. I stay low enough to pick out faces, praying to the goddess, the darkness, and the ancestors, that today is a day when Hodges Laikar has decided to come scavenging.
Some of the scavengers notice me, glancing fearfully up and scattering when I pass. If I didn’t have an important mission, I might feel overwhelmed by the strangeness of it. But then I spot a thatch of sandy hair by a crater with a dead kelaryn in it, and my heart lifts.
I come down on the ground hard, in too much of a hurry for finesse. Hodges swears, falling to the ground with shock. Terror is written across his face as he scrambles over the dirt, diving toward the crater he was examining.
“Hodges!” I call, striding after him.
I hear the sharp inhale of confusion and remember my helmet. I rip it off, shaking out my hair—always my most distinctive feature.
“It’s me, you idiot,” I huff. “Leah.”
His terror doesn’t exactly disappear, but it does change into something else. He stares at me like someone might’ve cut off Leah Polaris’s head and stuck it on a different body.
“Leah?” he gasps, a question now.
“I know, it’s a lot of change,” I say quickly. “But I don’t have much time to explain. I need your help. Come, I can say more on the way.”
I move toward him as I shove my helmet back on. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch when I reach down and grab his arms, hauling him to his feet. Goddess, he feels light these days. Surrounded by ephilium, it’s been easy not to notice how strong I’ve become.
“There’s someone who needs help. I’m going to take you to her, all right?
” I say, pointing in Filippa’s direction.
I’m aware I’m talking way too fast for him to absorb any of this.
Too bad. “And we need to get back before any of the other scavengers turn up.” I have awful visions of Filippa being swarmed in my absence.
“What are y—”
“Sorry, no time,” I grunt again, swinging Hodges up into my arms and taking flight.
The stream of bad language that comes from his mouth is the most creative I’ve ever heard from him. I tighten my arms, making sure he knows I won’t drop him—I’ve been in his position, and I know that’s always a pressing concern.
“Shut up and hear me out,” I say, trying to distract him. When I glance down, I can see him staring in bewilderment at my wings.
“What are you?” he gasps, which isn’t shutting up, but at least it’s to the point.
“Nephilim,” I answer. “My grandfather is ephilium. I didn’t know until recently. Some stuff happened, and my powers showed up. I’ve been in Aradis for a while. That’s where I got the wings.”
He looks like he has a thousand questions, which is fair. “That’s…wait, you’re a soldier now?” he asks, taking in my armor.
I grimace. “Not really. They’re making me jump through some hoops before they’ll accept me as a citizen. Being here today was hopefully a one-off.”
“So you’re going to live in Aradis now?” he asks, his tone skeptical. Honestly, if the circumstances were different, it would be funny that that’s the part that seems most unbelievable to him. I won’t tell him there’s a demon lord who has a very similar attitude.
I don’t answer at all, because we’re back with Filippa. As we come in to land, I spot a skinny figure a few yards away.
Oxel. I’d recognize that weedy little rat of a man anywhere.
I drop Hodges to his feet and charge toward the scavenger who once left me for dead on these very plains.
He sees me coming and gives a yelp as he starts to run.
I call lightning into my palms and release it, sending it crackling across the ground around his feet, though I carefully avoid hitting him. Oxel screams anyway.
“Stay off these plains or I’ll fry you to ashes, roach!” I shout after him.
The whole thing takes about thirty seconds. I’m quick to return to Hodges, who’s staring down at Filippa with a curious expression on his face.
“Who is she?” he asks, his voice quiet and soft in a way I’ve rarely heard from him.
“My cousin Filippa,” I say, bending down to gently lift her into my arms. “I can’t take her back to Aradis.
They won’t heal her. It’s a long story. But it’s why I need to find a medicine person for her here.
I’m taking her to your place—you go fetch someone and meet me there.
” I give him orders, rather than options.
In another situation, I might feel guilty about it, but nothing’s more important than helping Filippa right now.
Besides, our friendship has always been like this: me bossing Hodges around and him accepting my command with only minor grumbling.
This time he hesitates, looking like he might object, then his eyes trace Filippa’s face.
“All right,” he says. “But be careful not to let my mom see. She always liked you, but…” He shakes his head, as if he can’t imagine what Mrs. Laikar would have to say about taking in an injured winger. Then he takes off running toward the city.
Wingers fly over the city all the time, so I’m not worried about attracting too much notice as I carry Filippa up and over Pax. From above, it looks neater than I ever realized—densely packed but with a certain order to the north and south sides, with the winding river cutting through it.
I’m cautious when I get near Hodges’s neighborhood though, dropping down fast into the little back alley behind his house before anyone can spot me.
When Hodges came of age, his mother let him move into the apartment at the back of his home that has its own entrance.
It’s why our arrangement worked so well.
It was private enough that I could stop off at his before and after scavenging to get changed and pick up my stuff without attracting notice.
Over the years, I would sometimes duck in to say hello to Hodges’s mother, leading to an awkward stretch of weeks early on when she thought I might be courting her son. I soon set her straight.
I navigate the stairs carefully, briefly laying Filippa down to find the hidden key and unlock the door, then gently ease Filippa in. She’s still breathing, but she didn’t stir much during our flight, and it’s been nearly half an hour since I found her on the plains.
Inside, Hodges’s bedroom leads off a small living space with a table and two chairs. I lay Filippa down on the table, the ends of her wings hanging limply over the sides of the wood.
“Hold on, Filippa. Help is coming soon.”
Because I can’t just stand there waiting for something to happen, I take off my own helmet and get to work removing her armor.
I unstrap her sword belt and the sheath holding her still-clean sword, then unbuckle her bracers and shin guards.
When I get to her breast plate, I move very slowly and carefully, trying not to jostle the wound as I lift it off her torso.
Without it, she looks a lot smaller, lying there in just her plain pants and white undershirt, the fabric soaked with silver.
At last, her eyelids flutter, and my gaze snaps to her face.
“Filippa?”
She groans, and a sliver of relief slips into me. That has to be better than silence.
Hodges arrives a few minutes later, red and out of breath.
“I brought Martha from the market,” he says. “She’s outside.”
I nod, relieved. The medicine woman who treated my allergies back when I lived in Strata is very good.
“Did you tell her?” I ask. “Does she know what she’s walking into?”